I am not a jewelry person. I wear very little jewelry, a watch maybe. But I decided I needed a hamsa, a hand-shaped charm believed in Middle Eastern lore to bring good luck.
What better place to look for one than the 47th Street diamond district? At the first counter, at 20 West 47th, I found Ronny, an energetic Israeli who took me in hand once I explained I had written a novel, “Lila’s Hamsa,” and had found that most people did not know the name of the amulet. “If I show them one I’m wearing, they’ll understand,” I said.
I didn’t want diamonds, I told him, just a pretty filigree hamsa. Off we went down the long aisle to a gray-haired man at the end counter. He took out a tray of trinkets and I found a pretty hamsa among them. “That’s $450,” he said. My eyes widened. “For you, $45,” he added, smiling.
The trouble was the hamsa had a glass “diamond” in the center, and in my story, the heroine has a turquoise there. “So, I give you a turquoise bead, no charge,” Ronny said. “I take you to a jeweler who will put in place for you, $10 for the jeweler, nothing for me.”
With the bead in place, I put the hamsa on my chain and fastened it around my neck. The gray-haired jeweler insisted on placing a bracelet on my wrist with still another hamsa, no charge. With handshakes all around, I departed wearing my sparkling hamsa. Such hospitality certainly deserves a copy of my book. No charge.
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